


Kinship

by sahiya



Category: White Collar
Genre: Baseball, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter finds out something new about Sara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kinship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [veleda_k](https://archiveofourown.org/users/veleda_k/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, veleda_k!

Peter had always like Sara. Even before she and Neal were dating - even when they were broken up - he had liked her. She was whip smart, and she was ballsy and she took no shit from anyone, including Neal. But there was something else about her, too, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, something he really liked about her. 

And then he found out.

“You’re a Yankees fan?”

Sara looked up from the evidence file she was perusing. It was Saturday afternoon, the Yankees were playing the Red Sox, and they were all trapped at the office working a case. Peter’d had the game on in his office, but he hadn’t expected to find it on in the conference room where Sara and Neal were working. “What else would I be?” she asked. “A Mets fan? Please, Peter.”

“No, no,” Peter said quickly, not wishing to give offense. He turned to Neal for help. “Did you know Sara was a Yankees fan?”

“Yup,” Neal said, not looking up from his own evidence file. 

“And you didn’t tell me?”

He did look up at that. “Why would I tell you?”

“Because we could’ve been going to games together all this time!”

Neal raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you go with El? I thought she liked sports.”

“El likes _football_ ,” Peter corrected him. “And she doesn’t mind basketball or hockey. But she thinks watching baseball is about as exciting as watching paint dry. She put her foot down five years ago and said she wouldn’t go to any more Yankees games with me.”

“You go with Jones,” Neal pointed out. 

Peter waved this away. “Jones is from Minnesota, he’s a Twins fan. It’s not the same. And all this time you knew and didn’t tell me!”

“Well, now you know,” Neal said, sounding mildly annoyed. He stood up, grabbed a stack of folders, and said, “And now that you do, I’m going to go work at my desk.”

“Testy,” Peter said, once Neal had left. 

“He doesn’t get it,” Sara said with a shrug. “My mom didn’t either.”

Peter looked at her. “Your dad take you?”

She smiled. “From the time I could walk. He never said, but I think he was hoping for a boy, and when he got me, he decided it didn’t matter, we’d go anyway. I think all my best memories of him are in Yankees Stadium.”

“My dad loved baseball, too,” Peter said. “When I said I wanted to play professionally, he was the only one who didn’t think I was crazy.”

“Really?” Sara said. “I always imagined you wanted to be an FBI agent right out of the womb.” 

“Nah. I was a pitcher. Good, too. But I blew out my shoulder in spring training.”

Sara winced. “That must have hurt.”

“Literally and metaphorically.” Peter shrugged. “if I’d played, I wouldn’t be where I am today. Or who I am, either. So I don’t regret it - much.” That was true enough. Once in a very great while, lying in bed late at night with El was asleep beside him, he thought about what might have been. But he couldn’t be sorry for any of it, not now. “Do you get to games very often?”

She shook her head. “It’s been twelve years, give or take.”

“ _Twelve years_?”

“Since my dad died.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Peter’s own father was still alive, but not well enough now to go to games; stairs were hard for him since his hip replacement. They had their own baseball rituals whenever Peter went home, so it almost didn’t matter. But he could imagine all too well that if - when - his father was gone, going to games might be tough for a while. 

Still. Twelve years. Twelve _years_. 

“Would you like to go?” Peter asked. 

Sara raised her eyebrows. “To a game?”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, why not? Couple weeks from now, they’re playing Detroit at home.”

“Well . . . sure,” Sara said. “I’ll have to check my calendar, but . . . yeah. I’d love to. Thanks.” She looked taken aback, as though she hadn’t expected the invitation. It occurred to Peter, not for the first time, that Sara simply hadn’t had many friends in her adult life - and probably none who would go with her to a Yankees game.

“Great. Let me know for sure and I’ll get the tickets.” He pointed at her as he left the conference room. “This is gonna be fun.”

Neal, he discovered when he entered his office, had gone into Peter’s own office to work, rather than down into the bullpen. He’d switched off the game and turned on classical music instead. “Ahem,” Peter said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Neal looked up. “Are you ready to work on the case we all came in on a Saturday for? Or are you guys just going to talk about baseball for the rest of the afternoon?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “We talked about baseball for five minutes.”

“Whatever. If you’re going to have the game on, can you keep it to the conference room? I’m trying to get something done.”

He sounded a lot more annoyed now than he had earlier. Realization dawned. Peter put his hands on his hips. “Neal.”

“What?”

“Are you . . . jealous?”

“No!” Neal said, too quickly. “Why would I be jealous? It’s _baseball_.”

“Yeah, but - never mind,” he said, when Neal glared at him. “So hey, I think Sara and I are going to a game in a couple of weeks, and I was thinking - El’s been bugging me to go with her to that new pop art exhibit at the Channing. Why don’t you guys go to that while Sara and I are at the game, and then we can all meet up afterward for dinner?”

Neal raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Why not? You going to knock over the museum and make my wife the patsy?”

Neal gave him a disparaging look. “Of course not.”

“Okay, then. Sara and I get to see the game, you and El get to see the exhibit, and more importantly, I _don’t_ have to see the exhibit. Everyone wins.”

Neal nodded, glancing in the conference room toward Sara. “I guess so. Okay, that sounds like a plan."

“Good,” Peter said. “Now get out of my chair.”

Neal rolled his eyes but vacated the desk. “Hard ass.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

_Fin._


End file.
